The crystalline chamber faded around Ashley, replaced by endless white. Her breath fogged in the sudden cold, the familiar sting of freezing air biting at her lungs. Snow stretched in every direction, broken only by dark, irregular shapes half-buried in drifts.
Not shapes. Bodies.
"No," Ashley whispered, recognizing the landscape. "Not this. Not again."
The bodies of the caravan lay scattered across the snowy pass. Dalen face-down, arm outstretched toward the overturned wagon. Gareth slumped against a rock, crossbow still clutched in frozen fingers. Marta, Henrik, Jorik—all still, all silent, all bearing the crystalline patterns of instant freezing.
Ashley's knees buckled, sending her crashing into snow that felt too real against her skin. Her hands trembled as she reached toward Marta's frozen form. The woman's face remained locked in an expression of shock, eyes wide and unseeing.
